The Crystal Frontier Read Free

nice?”
    â€œVery nice, Dad. Too nice. She didn’t do anything to me. I was the one.”
    He was the one. It made him ashamed. In the car, she tried to make pleasant conversation about books and travel. At least the car was dark, the driver silent. The discotheque wasn’t. The noise was unbearable. The lights, harsh, terrible, like white knives, chased him, seemed to look for him, only him, while even the shadows respected her, desired her, shrouded her with love. She moved and danced wrapped in shadows—beautiful, Dad, she’s a beautiful girl.
    â€œNot half good enough for you, son.”
    â€œYou should have seen how everyone there admired her, how jealous they were of me for being with her.”
    â€œWe all feel good when that happens, right, Mariano? We feel on top of the world when people envy us because of the woman we have, so what happened? What happened? Did she treat you bad?”
    â€œNo, she’s got the best manners—too good, I’d say. She does everything well, and you can see right away she’s from the capital, that she’s traveled, that she’s got the best of everything. So why didn’t the disco lights chase her instead of me?”
    â€œBut she let you, right?”
    â€œNo, I walked out. I took a gringo taxi. I left the Mercedes and the driver for her.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t say left, I said let —she let you do what you wanted, right?”
    â€œNo, I bought a bottle of Jack Daniels and drank it right down. I felt as if I was dying. I took a gringo cab, I tell you. I came back over the border. I can’t be sure I know what I’m telling you.”
    â€œShe humiliated you, isn’t that so?”
    He told his father she hadn’t, or perhaps she had: Michelina’s good manners did humiliate him. Her compassion offended him. Michelina was like a nun in an Yves St. Laurent habit; instead of a surplice she carried one of those Chanel evening bags, the ones with a gold chain. She danced in the shadows, she danced with the shadows, not with him—him she turned over to the slashes of the strobe lights, dawn, frozen, where everyone could see him better and laugh at him, feel repulsion, ask that he be thrown out. He ruined parties. How could they have let him in? He was a monster. He only wanted to get together with her in the shadow, take refuge in the individuality that had always protected him. I swear, Dad, I didn’t want to take advantage of her, I only asked her for the thing she was giving me, a touch of pity, in her arms, with a kiss—what could a kiss mean to her? You give me kisses, Dad, I don’t scare you, do I?
    Don Leonardo patted his son’s head, envying the boy his bronzed, lion-colored hair. He himself had gone bald so early. He kissed him on the forehead and helped him settle down in bed, rocked him as he did when Mariano was a little boy, did not bless him because he didn’t believe in that stuff, but was on the verge of lulling him to sleep with a song. It seemed ridiculous to sing him a lullaby. The truth was, he only remembered boleros, and all of them talked about humiliated men and hypocritical women.
    â€œYou screwed her, right? Tell me you did.”
    4
    The welcome party for Michelina was a complete success, especially because Doña Lucila ordered the men of the house—Don Leonardo and Marianito—to make themselves scarce.
    â€œGo out to the ranch and don’t come back until late. We want a party just for us girls, so we can relax and gossip to our heart’s content.”
    Leonardo girded his loins. He knew Michelina wouldn’t be able to take the drivel that pack of old bitches spewed whenever they got together. Marianito was in no condition to travel, but his father said nothing to Lucila; anyway, the kid never let himself be noticed. He was so discreet, he was a shadow … Don Leonardo went alone to have dinner with some gringos on the other